Saturday Night DisInfo:

Illustration by Ruby Thompson

By Ira Zuckerman

An eccentric among its peers, Last Word Books is packed on Saturday nights. Most bookstores would give into the bars and clubs on these weekend evenings, but Last Word keeps their doors open for a weekly meeting of the paranoid.

A man with lanky, tattooed arms scurried around bookshelves, greeted Nov. 8’s assembly and arranged their seating. Few chairs matched as a set. Some looked like they were from a yuppie den, some an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. The guests, casually dressed and mostly bearded, began to settle as sociologist October Surprise began the discussion.

“Hi everyone. For those who are new, I’m October, I’m a sociologist, and I like tinfoil stuff, ” Surprise addressed the baggy-eyed mass. “We’re going to steadily get more crazy throughout the evening.”

“Tinfoil stuff” was a reference to the belief that wearing a hat made of tinfoil will deflect invisible attacks on one’s mind. Surprise doesn’t wear a tinfoil hat, but he seemed to enjoy the association.

Each Saturday at 6 p.m., Surprise hosts a “conspiracy lecture discussion,” called Saturday Night Disinfo. Nov. 1 marked the meeting’s premiere, with a discussion on “disinfo” as a concept.

“There’s information. Then there’s misinformation, where you made a mistake, you got something wrong. Then, there’s disinformation where you got something intentionally wrong,” Surprise said. “There’s a quote I like: ‘Information is like football. Misinformation is like a fumble. Disinformation is a well-executed play.”

With a master’s degree in sociology, Surprise started Saturday Night Disinfo, not in a need to discuss conspiracy theories, but in a genuine fascination with these ideas.

Posters for the discussions, up all over Olympia, are dripping with self-aware irony: the collage of conspiracy-themed clip art depicting an actor faking that he is faking the moon landing, expensively realistic alien halloween costumes, and “AREA 51” in big, federal letters certainly jumps out to passersby.

“A lot of people are hesitant to see alternate realities. They’ll shut down these ideas and get really defensive,” Surprise said. “I like conspiracy theories that are either truly explanatory, like ‘Oh, that could totally be true,’ or ones that are just totally nuts. This is a place to entertain those ideas. This is a place where all concepts are equally tolerated.”

[quote] The Reptilians are real. They’ll be here tonight.” – Ted Mahr
[/quote]

Nov. 8’s (the second-ever) Saturday Night Disinfo began with a PowerPoint presentation titled “HAARP, Weather, Death.” “That title’s just for sensationalism,” Surprise said. “HAARP (the High-Frequency Active Auroral Research Program) is a giant antenna array meant to manipulate the ionosphere.”

And so, the first conspiracy theory of the night was revealed: HAARP is being used to modify Earth’s environment. Surprise wasn’t stating this to the group as a fact, but opening it up to be picked apart for good and bad ideas. “If you came looking for answers, you’re in the wrong place. This is a questions place, not an answers place,” Surprise said.

Front-and-center of the congregation was Miles, a man with a wispy voice and grey beard, who seemed to be the in-house source of possible answers—the real conspiracy theorist, the true tinfoil in the room. “One of the ways they modify the weather is Chemtrails, which are different from contrails. Contrails go away. These damn planes are spraying chemicals into the air, like little fiberglass fibers and aluminum meant to refract sunlight,” Miles said. “I don’t know what the effect would be of the fiberglass quite honestly.”

Surprise, through videos, maps, and diagrams, led his guests to the conclusion that HAARP’s high frequency pulses have triggered earthquakes and other major phenomena. “With the right frequency, you can blow up buildings,” Miles said as his eyes widened.

Just as the meeting’s vibes reached a comfortable groove, a stocky latecomer stepped in the room, bringing a noticeable addition to the paranoid aura in the room. His trimmed facial hair and sweater-shirt combo make him appear to be the most successful conspiracy theorist in the room.

Surprise did his best to continue the discussion uninterrupted. “One theory for the Japanese earthquake, is that the West was punishing Japan for trade disagreements,” he said. Immediately, the late arrival took control.

“I have a friend who knows the prime minister—that’s common knowledge in Japan,” his creamy voice claimed. The room responded positively, asking questions and learning that this is Ted Mahr: the Host and Psychic, as his business card declared, of Out of this World Radio on Seattle’s Alternative Talk 1150 AM. “The purpose of this radio program is to raise consciousness and to bring love and light to our listening audience,” Out of This World’s website proclaims.

This is also Ted Mahr, disbarred from law practice in December 2010 for “conduct involving false statements to a tribunal, conversion of client funds, and dishonesty” as D. Angus Lee, Grant County Prosecuting Attorney, wrote in the press release warranting for his arrest due to unlawful practice in June 2012.

At Saturday Night Disinfo, however, Mahr ruled. For five-straight minutes, Mahr expounded on the use of Strontium and Barium particles in Chemtrails to disrupt ecology and human reproduction in South America, waving around flash drives full of data like weapons.

“You have to wonder why they’re doing this,” Mahr said, his eyes beginning to glow. “It’s for a creepy group of reptilian aliens, under an agreement to study us. Why else?” This was the first mention of “reptilians” that night.

“Reptiles like it hot, and these aliens are the same way,” Mahr said. “They look at us as a food source.”

Miles took this moment to add to the discussion. “That’s my theory too. They eat us. Especially a nice South American baby,” Miles said, chuckling.

“You think I’m joking,” Mahr menaced, spreading his threatening, electric aura around the room.

“No no.” Miles said. “I’m very paranoid.” Miles managed to keep his cool, but began shrinking into his chair.

Mahr returns to his lecture. “The Reptilians are real. They’ll be here tonight,” Mahr said. “I’m going to cover you all in white light, so you’ll be protected.” Whether this was an ongoing gift, or if he had plans for us later in the evening, was to be revealed.

The rest of the night was a blurry tug-of-war between Mahr and Surprise, both trying to take the reigns of the Reptilian conversation.

“When you look at Obama and Hillary Clinton, you see their eyes are wide open. That’s because their souls are in combat with a Reptilian consciousness,” Mahr said. “Do not worry. We are getting help from a so-called ‘galactic alliance.’” For being an alliance of light years, Mahr speaks of them with shockingly little reverence, but nowhere near the disrespect of the Reptilian aliens and the conspiracy theorists in the room.

“The Reptilians do time travel. We know that in 300 years, we kick them off this planet,” Mahr said.

“Have you heard the theory that this is originally their planet?” Miles tried again to start a dialogue.

“I call that theory bullshit,” Mahr spits. The room is silent for a few moments. Miles continues to slump into his chair.

Mahr was unstoppable. Each time Surprise was able to return to the powerpoint, Mahr had another three-to-five-minute soapbox speech. For a long time, no one else wanted to speak. Granted, you could count the attendance on your hands, but the new king had control over all.

“I took a trip to Japan last year,” one of the young women in the room bravely spoke for the first time. “I didn’t hear anyone talking about the earthquake being an attack, but that might be because I was a foreigner. Their disaster response teams were absolutely on top of everything though.”

Before anyone had a chance to give a thoughtful response, Mahr changed the subject. “I want to tell you, I am a psychic. My family is psychic. This planet is shifting into the fifth dimension and soon we will all have thousands of years of knowledge.”

This college-aged girl responded to one of Mahr’s theories, with relevant first-person knowledge. She did not get something of equal value in return. Yet, she continued to step up from the guests and speak her mind. She tried to show that this psychic man is not so scary.

“This talk about Reptilians makes me think about the idea of our brain having a Reptilian base. I think in our very basic nature, humans are evil,” the young woman spoke again.

“No,” Mahr forcefully stated: no discussion. “They’re not evil by nature.”

“Well, from my experiences I’ve seen that humans can be easily attracted to power. When humans have power, I think they’re eager to use it for personal gain.”

Mahr looked up from his lap as she finished talking; he was fiddling with his cell phone while the young woman spoke and proceeded to advertise next week’s show. The young woman did not speak again.

The night reached its closure, as Surprise ran out of PowerPoint, Mahr rans out of material, and the other conspiracy theorists ran out of patience. It was time to be bestowed with white light.

“Now these rays will only last until midnight tomorrow. Until then, you will be safe from Reptilian influence,” Mahr said. “This is kind of like ‘Om,’ it will open up your fourth eye.”

Mahr closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to chant a single nasal syllable. This went on for 30 to 45 seconds. Surprise was the only one in the room who couldn’t hold his thoughts in, as he quietly guffawed for the better part of the ceremony. All present thanked Mahr for his gift and began to make their ways home: free from the fear of reptilian influence, whether it existed beforehand or not.

The following Saturday, Nov. 15, Surprise opened up to the crowd about his feelings towards Mahr. “We’re trying to figure out if he’s a really good scam artist,” Surprise said, “or a Reptilian himself.”

Without Mahr, Saturday Night Disinfo returned to a democratic congress, with Surprise as the discussion head. He drove topics as far as his conversational partners would, and usually much further. People cracked jokes with each other, played with reptile hand puppets, and appeared to have fun with conspiracies. “Hey! Keep it together there in the back,” Surprise cheerfully jumped to his job as moderator. Reptilians aren’t even mentioned until 7 p.m.

“There’s a local lady who we’re trying to get to come next week who knows a lot about HAARP and weather. But we all have to be really polite,” Surprise chuckled with a touch of gravity, as the Nov. 15 discussion ends.

Impressionable beware: you may start believing in Reptilian-held presidential orgies inside the walls of Last Word Books. Others may be more confident in their sanity.